


The Driver

by fulminata



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 15:57:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13684959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fulminata/pseuds/fulminata





	The Driver

**Author's Note:**

  * For [argentumluna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/argentumluna/gifts).



After Yukimura's third speeding ticket in as many weeks, Yanagi was quick to find all of his car keys and hide them along with the car in a secure location. 

It took Yukimura two days to realize what had been done.

"I already paid the fines," Yukimura said. "Now hand over my keys."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Seiichi," Yanagi replied, taking a sip of tea. "Your agent and primary sponsor are worried that your run-ins with the law are having a negative effect on your career."

"Well, I'm still winning, so they're being overly cautious."

"I rather thought it was a euphemism for sales figures."

Yukimura huffed. It was so stupid. Speeding had _nothing_ to do with tennis. His agent was an idiot for thinking as much and his primary sponsor was being daft. He should go down there right now and give them a piece of his mind.

"Give me the keys, Yanagi. I need to pay someone a visit."

"No. I'll get you an Uber."

" _What_? Absolutely not. I don't need someone to drive me. I am more than capable of driving myself places."

"That's quite hard to do when you don't have a car."

" _You took it from me_ ," Yukimura reminded him.

"Hidden, not taken," Yanagi corrected, picking up the other's cell phone and tapping on the screen. "It was for your own good. There we go, the app is installed."

Yukimura frowned. "I could always take the train."

"I would prefer not to hear you complain about the crowds. This will be just fine until you can control your need for speed."

"I bet you're going to try and find a driver who purposefully goes under the speed limit."

Yanagi ignored the comment and said said. "When would you like to arrive at your manager's office to discuss this supposedly unfair treatment?"

\--

Yukimura was quiet the entire ride to the office, which was perfect since the Uber driver was steadfastly driving 5km under the speed limit and as silent as a rock. It allowed him to hone in on his anger. He muttered a trite 'thank you' as he stepped out of the car and marched towards the building.

Fifteen minutes later, defeated and annoyed, Yukimura ordered another Uber and waited for it to show up. He was a bit surprised when the same one that had dropped him off pulled up to the curb. He opened the door and slid into the backseat.

The ride back to his apartment was uneventful, but it did leave him curious.

\--

Two weeks, ten rides, one driver.

"Yanagi... did you hire someone or am I actually using Uber?" Yukimura asked after he came home from practice one day.

"Hmm? I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Yes you do." Yukimura set down his tennis bag and took the mug out of Yanagi's hands. "I'll hold this hostage until you confess."

"You forget that I can get myself another cup."

Yukimura furrowed his brow. "Just answer the question."

"Perhaps."

"Then the 'app?'"

"Something I commissioned."

"You're insufferable."

"Occasionally, but this is truly in your best interest. The sooner you control your speeding urge, the faster, no pun intended, that you'll be able to drive again when we're not traveling."

\-- -- -- 

Yukimura flopped into the backseat of his driver's car, stretching out across the leather seats. "So tired. Remind me to never let Yanagi schedule red-eye flights. I could murder him."

"Hn."

He twisted into a more comfortable position then shivered. "Do you have heated seats?"

"Only in the front."

"A blanket?"

"In the trunk with your bags."

The tennis player groaned. He had forgotten the difference in temperature between southern California and Japan. 

"Are you on the expressway yet? If not, pull over. I'm getting in the front seat."

"We haven't left the airport yet. Hold on."

Yukimura had opened the door before the driver had come to a complete stop and hopped out, quickly closing it and opening the front passenger side door, shutting it once he sat down. "Did you already turn-- Oh, wonderful." He hummed happily as the warmth crept through his legs and back.

"Better now?"

"Yes, thank you." Yukimura looked over at the driver and offered a smile. He didn't receive one in return as the man's eyes were fixated on the road. Then again, he doubted the man even saw the expression in the first place. "Wake me up when we're home."

\--

Yukimura felt his bed sink right next to him which was annoying as he was still trying to cling to the last vestiges of sleep.

"It's nearing eight and you have a therapy appointment at ten."

"We can leave at nine," he mumbled.

"I have tea for you and breakfast is being made. Sanada will be here at eight forty-five."

"Who is Sanada?"

Yanagi sighed. "Your driver." He should have known the tennis player wouldn't learn the man's name. He barely remembered his publicist's name on a good day.

"Oh," Yukimura said, sitting up reluctantly. He paused a moment then looked around. "How did I get here?"

"Sanada."

"I told him to wake me up."

"He said he tried, but we both know you sleep like a dead person, so he eventually stopped trying and just brought you in himself. Thus, why you're still in your clothes from last night."

"Which reminds me. No. More. Red-eyes. I can never sleep on the plane."

"I'll see what I can do. Now, drink up," Yanagi said, holding out the cup of tea for him. "I'll have breakfast brought up to you."

\--

Yukimura decided that he would only sit in the front seat until winter was over. That way, he would be warm and not have to complain about it. Also, it gave him a prime opportunity to ask questions.

"Am I the only person you drive around?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Renji asked."

"How do you know my manager?"

"We went to school together."

"How much is he paying you?"

"Don't you mean 'how much am _I_ paying you?'"

The tennis player contemplated that for a moment then nodded. "Yes," he said, when Sanada didn't reply.

"Enough."

"That's not an answer."

"You didn't ask for specifics."

Yukimura huffed and crossed his arms. "You're just as bad as he is."

"Perhaps."

"Do you know what I do?"

"I'm not an idiot."

"And you still agreed?"

"Is there a reason I shouldn't have?"

Yukimura shrugged. "Tabloids like to look into things."

"I can handle myself," Sanada said, pulling up to the building that housed the office of his physical therapist. "I was told you will only be an hour, so I will wait."

\-- -- --

Yukimura passed his court-appointed driving class a couple of weeks after Worlds. Despite this, he didn't demand to drive himself home.

"You've gotten used to it," Yanagi said.

"What season is it?"

"Winter."

"I'm not an idiot. There's no way in hell I'd drive like I normally do in this kind of weather."

"The snow is already melting."

"We both know my car isn't made for wet roads," Yukimura said flatly.

"I did try to convince you that a sports car wasn't practical."

"Shush. The car you wanted me to get was boring. I don't need a sedan. The only other person that rides with me is you."

"I appreciate the leg room."

Yukimura huffed. "It's not my fault you have long legs," he said. "Anyway, I'll start driving again once the weather gets better. I guess just keep him on retainer or something for the winter months."

"Or until you get your license suspended again."

"That isn't going to happen."

Yanagi gave him a knowing look then passed over a cup of tea. "I'll let him know the arrangement."

"Don't look at me like that." Yukimura took the mug and made his way towards his art studio. "Thank you for dealing with him though," he called over his shoulder. "I appreciate it."

"And him," Yanagi said under his breath then set back to work.


End file.
